


gather all the rebels now

by rachelisanerd



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Museum, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-17 21:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17568650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelisanerd/pseuds/rachelisanerd
Summary: Artemis prides herself on her ability to keep her two lives separate. When it all comes crashing down around her, she must reunite with old teammates, reluctant friends, and new allies in order to pick up the pieces.But, even then, they’re only scratching the surface.. . .aka the museum au that a couple of you actually asked for (plot twist) // title from wild things by alessa cara





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> hey fam, season 3 has revived me in a way that i didn't think was possible anymore. this is my first chaptered fic in a minute, any pacing critiques are very welcomed. i can't tell if i've been looking at it too long or if it's been too long since i've written anything like this. anyways, enjoy, lovebuggs with two g's.

There must be some joke in the fact that a girl named Artemis was caring for a bronze cast of _the_ Artemis, nearly 2500 years after its creation.

Artemis examined the shaft of the bow carefully, looking for cracks or any new evidence of chemical wear. Then her eyes went to the statue’s fingers, still grasping firmly onto its arrow, aimed and ready to kill. The statue embodied strength and grace, the femininity of metal.

Gallery rotations were those few hours a week in which Artemis could find solitude from her coworkers and the bureaucracy of the museum, responsible for nothing but the art in front of her. She found that this singular weight on her shoulders made her forget about everything else. It was as close to true peace as anyone like her could ever achieve.

“Artemis!” Violet, their office’s intern for the summer, practically floated over to her the way in which she only walked on her toes.

So much for solitude.

Though, if Artemis was being honest, Violet was one of her favorite things about her job. Violet worked hard, listened well to directions, and had hilarious reactions to the English slang words Artemis tried to teach her. So, she smiled as Violet approached.

What followed Violet was not going to receive as pleasant of a reception. Behind her was a man, wearing a well-tailored suit and sunglasses indoors. Just the look of him screamed _donor,_ meaning that she had to be nice to him.

Also meaning she disliked him on principle.

“Meet, Mr. Richard Grayson,” Violet introduced, “This is Artemis Crock, the conservator working on the Rhelasian art exhibition you were asking about.”

“Just Dick is fine,” he said, holding out his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Crock.”

Dusting her hand on her pant leg first, Artemis shook his hand, “Of course, how may I help you today?”

“I was hoping to get a little backstage preview of the exhibit before the opening tomorrow,” he explained, “Bruce sent me personally to see how it was coming along and I heard that you’re the one to talk to.”

Right. Bruce. As in Bruce Wayne. As in Wayne Gallery. As in the current home to the exhibition she had put her blood, sweat, and tears into. No getting out of this one.

“That can certainly be arranged,” Artemis attempted her best fake smile, “Violet, can you go finish up those examination reports and take the supply cart with you? You can be done for the day after that.”

“Of course!” Violet grabbed the supply cart, filled with dustier and well-loved paintbrushes, “Bye!”

Artemis turned to Dick, “Follow me, please.”

She led him down the museum’s grand, marble staircase to the first floor, keeping herself a couple steps ahead of him. The Gotham Museum of Art was built in a classical style; clean, neutral walls, large windows that warmed the space with natural light. Groups of school kids ran around, eyes wide, laughing, while patrons, young and old, stared thoughtfully at the statues that surrounded the front entry.

“I apologize that you were sent on a wild goose chase to hunt me down,” Artemis explained, “When I go out on gallery rotations, I go radio silent.”

“Hardly; your intern knew exactly where to find you.”

Artemis hummed, “Yeah, she good like that. And here we are,” she scanned her badge at the door to the gallery and stepped aside to let him through.

“Wow,” was all he said, and yeah, Artemis knew the feeling.

The Wayne Gallery was styled similarly to the rest of the museum. The crisp, white classical columns, marble floors, and high glass ceiling made Artemis feel like she was transported from the grimy streets of Gotham every time she entered the room.

The walls were lined with classical Rhelasian art that spanned nearly 500 years. Watercolors, ink drawings, small sculptures made of precious stones; the collection belonged to some Gotham Oil Tycoon before being donated to the museum upon his death roughly 5 years ago. The exhibition was the first time most of the collection had been displayed, and, even more significantly, the first major Rhelasian exhibition in the United States and Artemis helped put it together.

Yeah, it kinda made her feel like a badass. Not that she would tell anyone that.

Despite his initial outburst, Dick stayed silent for longer than Artemis was expecting as he took in the gallery. “Do you have any interest in Rhelasian art?” Artemis asked, hoping to make some sort of conversation to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Not really,” Dick answered, “Truthfully, Bruce would have rather been here himself, it being his gallery and all. But he was… called away on business last night.”

“Will he be back for the gala? I know there are a couple women in my office that would _love_ to get a photo with him.”

“I don’t think so, unfortunately,” Dick looked around the perimeter of the room. Artemis watched as his eyes looked everywhere but the art. “The way we came in- is that they only entrance?”

“From the main gallery? Yes.”

“So, you guys aren’t worried about,” he waved his hand, searching for the right word, “The flow of traffic?”

“The exhibition space and the gallery were designed specifically to avoid that,” Artemis explained, “There’s a natural flow to the space- something, I was told- that Mr. Wayne asked for personally during the design process. There is an emergency exit at the back of the gallery, as well.”

Seemingly satisfied, Dick turned to one of the displays off to the side. Perched on top of the crisp white pedestal was a small, jade figurine of a dragon.

 “What can you tell me about this artifact?”

“To be frank, not much, Mr. Grayson. Like most of the pieces in the collection, this one was in the possession of the benefactor’s family for generations. There were no records as to the object’s history prior to that.” Artemis walked around the other side of the display. She tried not to be distracted by the way light shifted over the piece, “But, in Rhelasian culture, jade was believed to have healing powers, so it is possible that this was used in medicinal rituals or was given to someone as a gift to promote good health and a long life.”

“Interesting.” Dick’s phone buzzed in his hand, “That’s my cue. I’ve got to run. This has all been very fascinating. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to give me this tour.”

“Oh, are you sure?” Artemis tried not to sound too eager, “We’ve barely covered the exhibit.”

“I’m sure the art isn’t going to change before tomorrow night,” Dick backed towards the entrance, “Until then, Ms. Crock.” He disappeared through the gallery doors.

Artemis rolled her eyes, “ _Dick._ ”

. . .

The gallery opening was in full swing by the time Artemis arrived the following night.

As soon as she was in the hall, she grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest waiter and slipped into the crowd. Lucky for Artemis, as assistant curator, her job for the night was to sip champagne and eavesdrop on the guests, to listen to what they had to say about the exhibition, the art, the experience of it all. Her boss was the one that was tasked with schmoozing the donors and giving the speech at the end of the night and that suited Artemis just fine. Speeches weren’t exactly her specialty.

As the night progressed, Artemis would catch glimpses of Dick Grayson effortless charming his way through the crowds of women that drooled their way after him. Maybe he took after Bruce Wayne more than one would think.

Eventually, Artemis found herself back in front of her favorite painting. A female warrior painted from head to toe as brilliant red robes whipped around her. She was tasked with battling the sky in order to protect her people in the village down below. It was a rarity in Rhelasian art, to see women depicted in such a way. But it was beautiful, captivating, nonetheless.

Artemis tugged up on her strapless dress. Even though she liked the way the navy-blue fabric flowed around her as she walked, dresses were never her thing. She couldn’t wait to get out of her, get into something more comfortable, and get on with her night.

“Champagne?”

Artemis turned to find an unfairly attractive man offering her a glass.

Under any other circumstance, Artemis wouldn’t accept a drink from a stranger, even one as handsome and wearing a suit as well as he was. She looked him up and down, she could take him.

“Thank you,” she took the champagne from his hand.

“So, uh, what brings you to a place like this?”

Artemis snorted, that was his line? “I work at the museum. I helped put this exhibition together, actually.”

“Really?” he seemed genuinely impressed, “This is really incredible. I mean, I know absolutely nothing about art- let alone Rhelasian art. I’m a scientist, art doesn’t really make sense to me. Numbers, theories, chemical equations, I’m far more comfortable with that… stuff,” he finished lamely. Artemis couldn’t help but smile. It was kinda adorable to see the look of sheer horror on his face when he realized he was rambling to her.

“I could tell you,” Artemis offered, “About the art. I’m a conservator, my job is pretty much where science meets art.”

He smiled. He had a very cute smile, Artemis decided.

“That would be awesome. I like learning. I’m Wally, by the way,” he extended his hand. Artemis tried (failed) to ignore the warmth that radiated from their enclosed hands as the shook.

“Artemis.”

“Alright then, Artemis, what am I looking at?”

. . .

Wally stayed by her side most of the night.

When she implied that he surely must have something better to do than to listen to her ramble about a niche art movement from over 1500 years ago, he simply replied that his buddy he came with ditched him for a pretty girl earlier in the night so he might as well return the favor. Artemis tried (failed- again) to keep her cheeks from flushing bright red at his comments.

Maybe she would ask him for his number. She could totally do that because she looked hot in this dress, right? Who would say no to this? To her? No one.

Right?

“Hey, Wally, I was just wondering…” she grabbed her phone out of her clutch and that was when all hell broke loose. Well- more specifically- broke through the ceiling.

“Artemis!”

In the blink of an eye, Wally was on top of her, covering her from the falling glass. From beneath his arm, Artemis watched as five masked figures landed in the center of the gallery, pulling guns out on the patrons.

“Grab the idol,” one of the intruders commanded. “Take down anyone who gets in your way.”

The voice was feminine, husky. Artemis knew that voice, she knew-

“Artemis, you need to get out of here,” Wally urged, picking her up from the ground, blocking her with his body, “Go!” He pushed her into the chaos of the crowd.

Tripping over her dress, she stumbled into the stampede that was heading towards the exit. Shots fired, screams echoed. Artemis had never felt such palpable helpless.

But she wasn’t helpless, she didn’t need to get out, she needed to get up.

Cutting through the stampede, Artemis lost sight of Wally, but she couldn’t dwell on that now. She needed to get upstairs, to her office, to her desk. Instead of running towards the doors, she went up the stairs, taking the steps two by two. Why did this job always end with her running through the museum in her heels? This was seriously getting ridiculous.

By the time she reached her desk, the screams had faded away and were replaced by her heart pounding in her ears. She grabbed what she needed, ditched her heels, and was about to make her way back downstairs when she heard a faint whimper coming from the break room. She looked towards the door- she had priorities- but another whimper echoed through the quiet.

Artemis dropped her head, “Fuck.”

Cautiously, she walked down towards the break room.

There was Violet, hiding underneath the table, hugging her legs to her chest, and crying softly.

“Violet?” Artemis asked, “What are you doing here?”

Startled by Artemis’ voice, Violet jumped, banging her head against the underneath of the able. Violet scrambled out from her hiding spot and threw herself into Artemis’ arms.

“Artemis!” Violet sobbed, “I was so scared! I was downstairs and then- “

“Hey, you did the right thing. You’re safe now. I’m going to get you out of here. Okay?”

Violet whipped her tears, “Okay.”

. . .

The museum was silent as they exited the third-floor offices until they reached the top of the museum’s grand staircase. Artemis could hear the sirens outside and the distant chatter of the police searching the building. The last thing she needed right now was to explain why she and her intern weren’t outside with the rest of the party-goers to the police.

“This way,” she whispered, pulling Violet down another corridor that was roped off to the public. There was an emergency evacuation route around the corner and Artemis figured that this situation was about as good a time as any to use it.

“This is so your fault!”

Artemis froze causing Violet to bump into the back of her. She turned to her intern and brought her finger to her lips. Violet nodded, understanding.

“How is this my fault? You were the one making goo-goo eyes at the conservator all night!”

“What! That- it was part of the gig. Your intel was bad, just admit it.”

Artemis pushed Violet back against the wall away from the corner, away from the voices. “Stay here,” Artemis ordered. Violet nodded.

Turning away from Violet, Artemis pulled her crossbow from where she had attached it under her dress and cocked it.

“Did you have that this whole time?” Violet whispered, panicked.

Artemis ignored her, instead focusing on the conversation that was happening. She needed them distracted, so wrapped up in their conversation that they would never see her coming.

Artemis took a breath, focusing herself. She turned the corner, crossbow held high, legs firmly planted.

“Don’t move,” she pronounced.

Truth be told, Artemis didn’t know what she was expecting to see. A couple thieves bickering? Probably. Some stolen art? Hopefully. But this- this was the cherry on top for a genuinely bizarre night.

Nightwing was facing her, a look of shock and horror etched on his face. The person he was arguing with had his back to Artemis, but she knew that stupid ass in its stupid red spandex anywhere, having kicked it enough times. But his cowl was pushed back, revealing a messy head of brilliant red hair, and, as he turned to face her, a splattering of freckles and bright green eyes-

Her hold on her crossbow didn’t falter, “Wally?”


	2. part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what to say guys. museum school is hard but hey, i updated! thank you to all who have read, reviewed, left a kudos, or interacted with part i in any way, shape, or form. it truly means a lot to me. enjoy part ii. :)

_Her hold on her crossbow didn’t falter, “Wally?”_

Wally- no, Flash-  _ugh_ , whoever he was looked mortified, a deep blush rose in his cheeks that matched his stupid uniform. She couldn’t believe that she was ready to throw herself at this guy barely 20 minutes ago.

Putting the safety back on, Artemis pulled back her crossbow and rested it on her shoulder. At least she got one thing right, she knew she could take him.

“Jeez, Flash, didn’t realize your brain had trouble keeping up with your legs.”

Wally’s eyes widened with recognition, “ _Tigress?_ ”

“ _Yes,_ ” she spat, “Unlike some of us, I can actually keep my identity a secret.”

Wally yanked his cowl back over his eyes, but not before sending Artemis a fiery glare.

“This night just keeps getting better and better,” Nightwing snickered.

To say that Tigress and Flash didn’t get along greatly underestimated how petty the two heroes could be.  

They came up in the League around the same time, and Artemis even remembered when he was Kid Flash. She remembered him on TV, smile wide, taking down the bad guys, doing good for the sake of doing good. She was looking forward to meeting him until he fell on his face in front of her and acted like a  _total ass_. Artemis guessed this was why people said to never meet your heroes. All you ended up with was disappointment and the mental image of Flash eating twenty hamburgers in less than five minutes.

Ever since that fateful first meeting, they butted heads like it was their day job. A jab here, a snarky comment there, a complete dismissal of anything the other had ever accomplished always thrown in for good measure. He would mess with her arrows, so she would hide his Chicken Whizees. She would call him out whenever he tried to flirt with _any_ female Leaguer, so he would steal her quiver and run circles around her as she tried to grab it back from his grubby hands.

It had gotten so bad that they were banned from sparring with each other, out of fear that Artemis would stab him through the leg.

(She wouldn’t actually, but she couldn’t lie and say she hadn’t thought about it.)

“Look, you better get out of here. Now,” Artemis ordered, “There are a bunch of cops downstairs looking for any reason to arrest someone in a mask.” She glanced over her shoulder at the corner, hoping that Violet couldn’t hear them, “I have an equipment cache on 34th and 6th; meet me there in twenty minutes,” she looked pointedly back at Flash, “Use the time to think of a good excuse as to why the hell you are on my turf.”

Flash opened his mouth like he was going to argue with her, but Nightwing grabbed him and pulled him up the stairs.

Artemis waited a couple beats until she heard the door on the roof open and close before she turned back to find Violet. The girl was fiddling with the fabric of her dress, barely meeting Artemis’ eyes when she told her it was time to go.

They went out through the basement’s service entrance since she imagined Violet didn’t have the ability to swing from rooftops or run down walls. It led out the back of the museum, away from the chaos, away from anyone asking questions. Artemis slowed them to a casual walk once they reached the sidewalk. There was no need to draw any further attention to themselves, the evening dresses did plenty of that already.

“Just a couple more blocks and will call you a cab home, okay?”

“Okay,” Violet agreed. She continued to keep her head down, her eyes never leaving the ground.

Artemis didn’t expect Violet to suddenly be all rainbows and unicorns again like she normally was, but the cloud around her wasn’t dissipating as time went on. Artemis tried to remember the first time she felt helpless, alone, _afraid_ but it wouldn’t be the same.

Where Artemis was a little girl in overalls from a broken home, Violet was a refugee, a fighter in her own right. Violet would get through this, she couldn’t let herself believe anything less.

Artemis waved down the first cab they saw and as the cab pulled up beside them, she placed her hand on Violet’s shoulder, “Hey, about tonight. You can’t tell anyone about what happened.”

“Why-“ Violet bit back whatever disagreement she had, “Okay.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Artemis opened the door for her, “Anything at all.”

Sliding into the backseat, Violet nodded, “I will. I promise. Goodnight, Artemis.” She shut the door behind her.

The cab drove off and Artemis had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that her night was only getting started.

. . .

Nightwing was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by all her arrows, while Flash had his head buried so deep in the fridge, Artemis wondered if it would ever come out when she arrived at the apartment. It was small, dingy, and vaguely smelled like burnt broccoli but the rent was cheap, and it was only a couple blocks from the museum so Artemis couldn’t really complain. It served its purpose.

“Sure guys, just make yourself at home.”

Nightwing looked up, “Can a boxing glove actually come out of one of these?”

She snatched the arrow, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Artemis was, at most, ten minutes behind them. And in that short amount of time, Nightwing had managed to find, unlock, and rummage through all her gear; even her uniform had been haphazardly thrown on the couch.

“And stop touching my stuff!” She grabbed her suit, “I need to go change, not babysit two fully grown men.”

“What?” Flash popped his head out of the fridge, “You’re changing?” Wally- Flash- _the idiot in red_ \- sounded almost disappointed.

Ha! She knew she looked good in this dress.

“Can’t do work in an evening gown,” she said, slipping into her bathroom.

The moment her dress pooled around her feet, Artemis felt like she could breathe again. She splashed cool water from the faucet on her face, her neck.

“So, uh, do you live here?” Nightwing called through the closed door.

Artemis snorted. “No,” she called back, slipping on her suit, “Just a place to hang my bow close to the museum. I got the idea from my- from an old comic book I read as a kid.”

Nightwing had put all her things back where he found them by the time Artemis came out from the bathroom. Smart move.

“Much better,” Artemis clasped the strap on her quiver, “I feel naked in civvies.”

Flash folded his arms across his chest, “Says the girl who used to think a crop top counted as a uniform.”

Artemis glared, “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Yeesh,” Nightwing interjected, “Get a room.”

“Dude!”

Artemis groaned, “Can we just get straight to the point? What the hell were you two doing at _my_ gala?”

“It was need-to-know,” Flash bragged, “Tigress didn’t need to know.”

“Gotham isn’t even your city!”

Nightwing ignored them both, “We were working with some less than reliable intel that someone was going to target the gala. The thing is we thought the target was someone in the gallery, not something. Gotham’s elite tends to bring out the crazies.” He brought up his wrist, countless holographic pictures of Gotham’s wealthiest circled through. Artemis only recognized a couple of them as donors she had worked with in the past. “Anyone on the guest list would bring a pretty ransom. More than anything else in that room.”

“So, you’re telling me that the objects there are worth more than any of us know?” Artemis asked, “You know this isn’t a heist movie, right? There isn’t some secret compartment with hidden gems or an invisible map on the back of one of the paintings.”

“Maybe someone is just really into tiny dragons?” Flash suggested.

“Not helping,” Artemis snapped.

“You’re the museum-nerd! Why don’t you tell us, Miss Know-It-All.”

“Oh, so now you want my help?”

“Focus,” Nightwing chided, “Is there anything in the museum’s files that might be able to tell us why someone would want to steal anything from that exhibit?”

“Maybe? But they’re all at the museum,” Artemis said, “I don’t have access to anything from here.”

Nightwing turned to Flash, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Flash grinned.

Artemis’ hands went to her hips, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

. . .

Artemis has spent her Friday nights doing weirder things than breaking into a building that a) she had the key to and b) just broke out of herself. But with Gotham PD still standing vigilant outside, it wasn’t like they could walk through the front door.

Flash sped through the streets as she and Nightwing swung from rooftop to rooftop, closer and closer to the museum.

They stopped on a building across the street. She kneeled at the edge of the roof, pulling out a small scope from her utility belt. The rooftop of the museum had been marked with yellow tape around where the thieves had come crashing through the glass ceiling of the gallery. She tried to push down a feeling of dread that swelled at the back of her throat. While Tigress was used bad guys ruining her fun, Artemis Crock was not.

Sometimes, she forgot that the two were on in the same. But, the mask- the familiar rush of adrenaline, the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips, the freedom and liberation she felt every time she put it on- nothing could ever compare. Nothing.

“Any cops on monitor duty?” Nightwing asked.

“Lucky for us, not on the roof but look,” she handed over her scope. Cop cars were still parked haphazardly at the stone steps to the museums. The ground floor lights were on, people moving in and out of sight through the large front windows. 

“Probably still collecting physical evidence,” Nightwing reasoned, “Witness statements if anyone’s still around.”

Artemis noticed a handful of black SUVs parked neatly just around the corner, “Shit. The FBI is already here.”

“Think they’ll be up in your office?” Flash asked.

“If they’re smart.”

“Good thing we’re smarter,” Nightwing pulled up that handy blue screen of his again. “I hacked the surveillance cameras. They won’t see us, but we’ll see their every move.”

“And the footage from earlier?” Artemis asked.

Nightwing smirked, “What footage?”

“Oh, I really need to get me one of those,” Artemis mused.

“Now, I’m going to take a closer look at our friends in blue. You two go find the files,” He pulled out his grappling hook and swung over to the museum, landing on the roof with ease before rolling out of sight.

Off to do whatever a Boy Wonder did, Artemis supposed.

“I hate when he does that,” Flash muttered. He scoped Artemis up in his arms, tucking her into his chest, “Hold on tight.”

She tried to grab onto his suit, “Wait-“

All the air was sucked out of her at once. She was drowning- falling- _flying_. Every nerve in her body felt electrocuted.

The next thing she knew, Flash was placing her down gently on the rooftop. “Just breathe, beautiful,” he said. “Everyone gets a little dizzy the first time they travel at a couple g’s.”

Artemis knocked his hands away from her, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind that was questioning what was really making her nerves feel like they were on fire. “Get off me.”

He backed up a step, hands in the air in surrender, “I just wanted to help,” he paused a beat, “Artemis.”

She nodded slightly, “Okay, follow me, then.”

. . .

Artemis lowered herself through the open skylight and the office was as dark and quiet as she left it a mere hour before.

At least she didn’t have a crying intern to worry about anymore.

Flash lowered himself down next to her. “Got any snacks hidden in your desk?”

Okay, she wanted the crying intern back. She’d take a crying anyone over babysitting the big red bozo. And this wasn’t a new feeling for Artemis. What was new was the urge to press herself up against him, push back his cowl, rake her fingers through his hair, so her name would roll off his tongue again-

_Get a grip girl._ This was honestly getting ridiculous. The sooner they figured this out, the sooner they could go back to keeping half a continent in between them and Artemis could get her sanity back.

 “Do you ever think about anything that’s not food?” she asked.

“I definitely wasn’t thinking about food when I saw you in that dress for the first time tonight.”

She could play this game, “Oh, and, pray tell, what were you thinking about?”

“I thought,” his voice was quieter- softer than she’d ever heard it before. And he stood close, so close that she had to look up at him and could feel his warm breath across her skin, “If I don’t talk to this girl tonight, I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

She was very thankful her mask covered the flush in her cheeks, and his domino mask covered the look in his eye.

“I- I need to look for those files,” she finished lamely.  

She turned and felt the familiar burst of wind whip at her hair.

The office had an open plan, small cubicles were tucked against the wall, around large white pillars. The far wall was lined with dull gray file cabinets. Her favorite part of the office was the conservation lab. Surrounded by glass windows for the public to see in, easels and benches covered with artwork brought some much-needed life into the space.

Artemis walked over to her boss’ desk and pulled the exhibition binder from the shelves above it. She flipped through pages and pages of emails, timelines, condition reports, conservation requests, exhibit designs. Nothing that jumped out and screamed: “this is why a group of masked ninjas broke through the ceiling to steal me!”

Flash zipped back to her side, munching on some candy Artemis knew the secretary kept hidden in her desk.

“Did you figure it out, yet?” he asked.

She huffed, “ _No_ , answers don’t just appear out of thin air.”

It hit her like an arrow to the chest. Magic. Shit, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought about it sooner, but it really wasn’t something they taught in the classroom. She shoved the binder into Flash’s arms and rushed over to the file cabinets. She pulled out the first drawer for unidentified artists. The form she was looking for would only be in the object’s original file.  

“Is that a lightbulb, I see?” said Flash.

“Magic,” Artemis explained, her fingers working through the files. “We can’t authenticate, but someone has to.”

“I’m not following,” Flash sped over to her.

Why couldn’t she find this file? She really had to have Violet organize these next week.

“We don’t like to advertise this but every once and a while, we get objects with, uh, _magical potential_ that need to be tested _,_ ” she said carefully. “It’s unethical for us to do it, so we have a list of contractors and appraisers we hand out.”

“So, you’re saying that there’s someone who knows whether or not there’s a hidden compartment?”

She looked up at him, letting out a slight laugh, “Exactly.”

Then she found it: Unidentified, 2015.7.16, _Jade Dragon_. Artemis yanked it out of the drawer and threw it down on top of the other files. She flipped through the pages until she found the report, pulling it out.

“’The Jade Dragon was tested for various mystical properties’ blah, blah, blah, technical talk,” Artemis read aloud, “’All tests were inconclusive.’ Inconclusive,” her shoulders fell, “It’s- nothing- just a dead end.”

“Nothing?” Flash asked. “Well, maybe it’s one of the other objects? Maybe they just stole everything because they could?”

Artemis read and reread the report. She couldn’t believe that it was just that simple, that they were just thieves stealing because they could steal. Maybe she had been running around with too many supervillains that she forgot that not everything had to be a conspiracy theory.

But, then, something at the bottom of the form caught her eye. It was a signature in large, looping letters.

 “Shit,” Artemis said, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What?” Flash asked through his mouthful of candy.

Artemis held up the form for him to see.

“Shit.” Flash pressed his finger to his comm, “Um, Nightwing. You’re going to want to see this.”

_Examined by Zatanna Zatara._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaaay cliffhangers for the win! come ask me questions about museums on tumblr @rachelisanerd.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, i did that. catch me on tumblr @rachelisanerd for a sneak preview before next week's part.


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